Every impulse in us,
Is a reaction in our brain,
A constant flux of organic chemicals,
That comprise our very being,
Reaction in and reaction out,
Maintaining a fragile equilibrium.
But does that mean we are nothing,
Than a pile of simultaneous reactions,
Is everything about us accidental?
For there is no chemical formula for will,
For thought, memory, and drive,
We may have vague inklings in our chemistry,
But they are meaningless to us unless we let them be,
After all, love is just a chemical,
But it us who chose to give it meaning.